Free Life of Evel: Evel Knievel by Stuart Barker Page A

help increase the bike’s standard top speed of around 110mph. Less necessary and more for show was the drogue parachute, which was fitted in the rearseat unit; it was designed to slow him down after big jumps but, as he proved when he had no parachute, this was not a major problem anyway unless his landing area was extremely confined. However, the flurry of the chute as it opened added to the drama and further created the impression that Knievel was pushing motorcycle technology to the limit.
    Throughout 1967 Knievel toured and performed wherever he could secure a booking, and by the year’s end he had pulled off more than eight major jumps. Notable performances included a leap on 24 September over 16 Chevrolets in front of 4,000 demolition-derby race-goers at the Evergreen Speedway in Monroe, Washington. Knievel actually approached the jump too fast and overshot his landing ramp, though he somehow managed to keep the bike upright despite a heavy landing and steered it to safety. He did, however, suffer a compression fracture to his lower spine on landing and had to be administered with painkilling injections.
    As successful as Knievel’s assorted dates were becoming, he was realising by now that it was going to take something extra special to drum up the level of public interest he dreamed of. Jumping rows of cars could only look impressive for so long – there had to be something else, something bigger, better and more spectacular. Knievel had been aware since his first jump when he leaped over snakes and mountain lions that what lay between his ramps was just as important as how far apart they were. ‘Right then,’ he told the press after his 1965 debut, ‘I knew I could pull a big crowd by jumping over weird stuff.’ It was a lesson well learned and one which would stand him in good stead throughout his career. The problem lay in dreaming up novelty obstacles that would be just possible to jump while retaining precisely the right amount of risk and danger, while convincing an audience that they could not be jumped. This balance between the possible and the impossible was another key element in Knievel’s unique brand of entertainment.
    It’s easy to imagine Knievel, wherever he went from 1965 onwards, keeping one business eye on anything of note which could possibly be jumped on a motorcycle, just as an artist never stops searching for scenes to paint and a songwriter always has one ear open for potential melodies, lyrics and song titles. It’s even easier to imagine him dreaming up more and more crazy ideas during his regular drinking binges, and this was, in fact, how his most famous stunt of all originated in 1966.
    Somewhat the worse for wear, Knievel had been boozing it up in a bar called Moose’s Place in Kalispell, Montana with his friend Chuck Shelton. Shelton spotted a calendar on the wall of the bar with a picture of the Grand Canyon on it and told Knievel he should try jumping that. Anyone other than Knievel would have laughed off the idea for the joke it was intended as, and, at least initially, that’s what Evel did. But gradually, through a haze of alcohol, the laughing stopped and Knievel began to realise he might just be on to something big. Very big. ‘The more I studied on it, and the more Montana Marys I put back, the narrower that durned [sic] hole in the ground seemed to get. People talk about the Generation Gap and the Missile Gap, but I suddenly saw that the real gap was right there in the heart of the Golden West. And I knew I could bridge the bastard.’ As an afterthought he added, ‘Ah well, what the hell? I always liked drinking and jumping.’
    The Montana Marys Knievel was consuming on that particular evening have become as much part of his legend as his jumps, but the actual contents of Evel’s favourite drink have long been a source of speculation. Some claimed it was a near lethal combination of beer, tomato juice, Wild Turkey and vodka, while others suggested a touch of